


Enfolded in My Arms

by Yatzstar



Series: The Mandalorian and His Child [8]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Baby Yoda Needs a Hug, Din Djarin Needs a Hug, Fluff, Gen, Hugs, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, POV Alternating, POV Baby Yoda, POV Din Djarin, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Touch-Starved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-09
Updated: 2020-01-09
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:54:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22188994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yatzstar/pseuds/Yatzstar
Summary: The Child has waited a long time to be held lovingly, and now that he has someone to hold him, waiting can be hard.
Relationships: Baby Yoda & The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)
Series: The Mandalorian and His Child [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1565002
Comments: 33
Kudos: 1061
Collections: The Best Din Djarin & Grogu | Baby Yoda Whump Fics, The Best Grogu | Baby Yoda POV Fics, The Best Parent Din Djarin Fics, The Best of the Best Mandalorian Fics





	Enfolded in My Arms

The Child loved being held by his father. For too long the ones that had rarely held him were rough and careless, holding him uncomfortably or moving him with far too much force.

He swiftly learned that whenever hands came near to him, it would not be a good experience. Though most were unaware of the discomfort they caused, some did bear ill intent. Whether they hid it or not, he could see their intentions in their spirit.

Some poked and prodded him out of curiosity, pulling painfully at his ears. When he cried out, sometimes they would strike him. Some dangled him by the back of his robes, but when he did not offer anything, they would toss him back into his pod.

For a many a day he longed for the warmth of a gentle touch, a loving embrace. Faint traces of such wonderful things danced along the edges of his memory, though he could not remember the faces of those who had loved him.

He knew with a certainty that those outside his pod would not hold him in such a way. Their hands were rough, their touch only out of curiosity or anger rather than care. He learned ways to avoid them: by being quiet even when his stomach cramped with hunger, bearing with the rough jostling and reek of alcohol as they sought entertainment, taking the loneliness of the pod in stride with the hope that one day it would all change.

_Wait,_ whispered the Force in the dark, the only company he had.

So he waited, taking the roughness as best he could.

Then one day, it did change.

The man who would become his father killed the droid and stretched forth a finger towards him. The Child saw the hand coming and waited to be grabbed roughly or to be shoved back into the dark, but it did not come. The finger wiggled a little in a silent invitation, and he could no longer resist. He took the finger, so large and strong, but immediately felt the gentleness radiating from the man amidst the confusion and shock in his spirit.

This was the one he had waited for.

He took a chance, crawling from his pod with the intent of helping the man with his hurts. The man stopped him before he could help, and the Child expected to be bundled away, but he was merely placed gently back into his pod, and it stayed open.

Surprised and happy with how the man treated him, he redoubled his efforts. That time the man sealed him away, but the gentleness remained.

The man continued to be gentle with him. One time he lifted him by the back of his robe like the rough ones used to do, but there was no malice in the gesture, merely uncertainty and consternation.

The Child had known for certain the man was different when he came to rescue him. When he went away with the bad men, he felt uncertainty as their dark intentions blocked out the hope he had felt with the man, but when next he woke, he found himself in an achingly familiar hold. Gunfire flew by above them, but the man ignored it as he stared down at him through his helmet. A gentle hand caressed his head, and he knew without a doubt. He felt the Light pouring from his spirit.

When they were safely away, the Child set about searching for ways to get the man to hold him.

“Stop touching things,” the man said.

The Child blinked. He almost had what he wanted, so he leaned over and pressed another button. Sure enough, the man leaned over and undid what he had done, taking him into his arms. The Child relaxed in his hold, relishing the warmth he had been deprived of so long.

Over time and circumstance, it became clear that the man would not abandon him, that he was something more. The Child started to know him as _father_ , not in word but in feeling.

Soon all the Child had to do was ask to be held, and his father would comply easily. He took comfort in the warmth and security, and the time before filled with uncertainty and loneliness seemed like nothing but a bad dream.

Even when his father’s lips lied, his touch did not. He would put on a mask with his words, even beneath the helmet, appearing cold and unfeeling when potential clients inquired about him. But still his touch betrayed the inward softness the Child knew well. A gentle head pat, the soft caress of an ear was all the Child needed to be reassured.

Din knew the Child was clingy. It seemed he could not go for five minutes without being held unless he was flat out asleep. Most of the time the man was happy to indulge the Child in his wants, but he had a feeling that the clinginess would one day be a source of trouble.

Sure enough, things came to a head when they ended up in an asteroid field. Din had spent half an hour trying to navigate the _Razor Crest_ through the tight formations of rocks, but the Child was having none of it. It started with little claws pulling on his pants.

“You’ll have to wait,” Din said distractedly, all his concentration on the viewport.

The Child was not pleased with this, and started trying to clamber into his lap by himself.

“Stop,” Din hissed, trying to navigate the ship in between a tight gap.

He got a thin, pitiful cry in response as the Child redoubled his efforts, pulling at his leg guards as he tried to haul himself up. Din’s concentration broke as he tried to pilot the ship and stave off the kid at the same time, and the ship drifted up a little too far. The top scraped harshly against the underside of an asteroid, and the grate of metal on stone caused the Child to still.

Din swiftly pointed the ship downwards, away from the rock as the proximity sensors blared at him. Once he was certain he was safely positioned, he turned a frustrated gaze upon the Child.

“I can’t hold you all the time,” he snapped, his words coming out perhaps harsher than intended. “I have to pilot the ship and keep us safe. Why can’t you understand?”

Even if the Child did not understand his words, he clearly understood his annoyance. His large ears pinned back and his eyes went even wider before he finally shuffled away.

Din let out a frustrated sigh and turned his attention back to the asteroid field. Before he dealt with the kid he had to get them to safety.

The Child felt the irritation radiating from his father, and for a horrible moment he was reminded of the ones who had treated him so harshly for so long. He looked up at his father, and though his face was shielded by the metal of his helmet, he knew he was displeased.

Suddenly afraid as dark memories resurfaced within, the Child quickly retreated. His father did not follow, and he made his way down to the lower decks, curling himself in the corner of the bed they often shared. He sucked on the necklace around his neck, feelings of loneliness permeating his mind for the first time in a long while.

It took some time, but Din finally navigated the ship out of the asteroid field and into open space once again. He sat back, sighing in relief as the black void stretched out before him, and instinctively looked towards the floor for the little green head.

When he found nothing, he remembered what he had said before and winced. Now that his frustration had dimmed, he found himself regretting his words.

He turned in his chair, scanning the cockpit, but there was no sign of the Child. With a sigh he pushed himself up, heading towards the ladder.

“ _Ad’ika_?” he called as he descended to the lower deck.

A tiny noise caught his attention, and he turned towards the bed from where it came. Eyes, dark and wet, peered at him from the bundle of blankets.

Din swallowed hard as he caught the gleam of fresh tears on the tiny face, suddenly regretting his earlier words all the more. He walked over to the bed and crouched down in front of it, gazing at its tiny occupant.

“Do you want to be held?” he asked.

The Child just stared at him quietly, making no move towards him.

Internally kicking himself, Din removed his helmet, setting it down on the floor with the hope that the kid would understand his sincerity with the sight of his face. “I’m sorry for what I said earlier. I was too harsh, but it is true. I can’t hold you all the time. I have to do other things as well.”

The Child’s ears lifted a little, and he felt a surge of relief. At least he was listening. Hesitantly, he extended one finger in invitation as he had done what felt so long ago, and after a moment’s pause, tiny hands disengaged from their grip on the blanket and grabbed it.

Din took that as a sign to gather the kid into his arms, and the little one let him. He exhaled, settling him on his shoulder, one ear brushing against his cheek. The Child grasped at the cloth of his undershirt, clinging with a grip that said he would not be letting go anytime soon.

For a few moments Din was silent as he considered what could make the Child desire to be held so fervently. The pieces fell into place quickly, painting a picture that he was surprisingly familiar with.

“Those Niktos didn’t seem like the loving, caring type,” he murmured, as much to himself as it was to the Child. “You probably spent a long time without anyone holding you.”

The Child pressed his face into the crook of his neck.

“Before you, I hadn’t touched another living thing that wasn’t a bounty in years, decades, even,” he said, gently rubbing a hand across the small back. “Though I could ignore it, sometimes I found myself wanting something, someone to hold or be held by. That’s the case with you isn’t it?”

The Child murmured softly into his undershirt.

“I don’t know how long you were in that place, but it was too long.” Din felt a spark of anger as he remembered the facility he found the Child in, and it was obvious to him now that the kid had been mistreated, probably in more ways than one. “I’m not like them, I promise, and if I could hold you all the times you wanted I would.”

He gently pulled the Child away from his shoulder so that that they were looking at each other. The Child’s ears were lifted, and his pleasant demeanor had returned.

“I know what you feel,” Din said. “I’m not perfect, and I can’t hold you all the times you want me to, but I promise that I will eventually. You just have to be patient sometimes, alright?”

The Child smiled at him, and even if he didn’t understand, patience was something they could both work on.

The Child felt the Light in his father, saw it in his face. His words were soft and full of some mutual understanding, along with the plea that waiting was sometimes necessary but never long.

The Child knew waiting. He had waited for a long time to be held by one such as his father, and he was not disappointed. It was worth it, so he supposed he could wait a little when his father asked it of him, so long as he was held close in the end.

Full of warmth and satisfaction, he let his eyes fall shut as his father laid him against his shoulder, sleep beckoning to him. Feeling safe in his father’s gentle grasp, he drifted away, and the last thing he felt before sleep overcame him was the gentle brush of lips on his head.

His father’s embrace was well worth the wait.


End file.
